He and Caitlin both had had their respective visitors and time to be fretted over by Madam Pomfrey. But thank Merlin that meant that he and Caitlin didn’t have to interact. He spared only a few glances over at her. Every time he started to feel bad for asking Roman to take her out, he thought of the words she had spat to him in passing during the match. And those brought up the memories of her breaking up with him and her treatment of him since then. No. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for her because she got what she deserved.

Now that the visitors were gone and the pain was slowly subsiding, Trent, of course, couldn’t sleep. Well, he could, but not for long. He kept drifting in and out of it and it was just his luck to wake up in the middle of the night. And what – or rather, who – was the first thing his eyes beheld when he woke up but Caitlin staring right at him.

And then she was speaking. Apologizing. She was apologizing? Well, wasn’t it a bit late for that? What did she expect him to do? Be grateful, be over the moon for his attention like he would have a year or so ago? No. Definitely not. His jaw clenched and he turned his head slightly so that he could look at her. “Don’t bloody EVER speak to me like that again. I am not Alexander. In fact, don’t even speak about my brother like that.” He paused. “Actually, don’t ever fucking talk to me again, Caitlin. Unless you need something from me for Prefect duties, stay the hell away from me.” She had put him through so much shit, and he had gone through so much shit because of her and because of having a bloody conscious that he was done with it. She was too late: he was done being the good guy with her.